


The Zalu Singularity

by niteynyx



Series: Nitey's Commissions [17]
Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Bikinis, Bunny Girl, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Comeplay, Dirty Talk, Embarrassment, F/F, F/M, French Kissing, Girls Kissing, Humiliation, Interracial Relationship, Large Breasts, Lesbian Sex, Masturbation, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Public Humiliation, Rough Oral Sex, Snowballing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, interracial, purple hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:08:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27541324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niteynyx/pseuds/niteynyx
Summary: Unable to reach the Grail causing a singularity in Africa by conventional means, Chaldea decides to try their hand at a heist. It falls on Medusa and Scáthach to seduce the future king and carry the day. Unfortunately, no one anticipated how much Medusa liked big black cocks, nor how much Scáthach would.
Relationships: Medusa | Rider/Original Character(s), Medusa/Original Character(s), Scáthach | Lancer/Medusa | Rider, Scáthach | Lancer/Original Character(s), Scáthach/Medusa
Series: Nitey's Commissions [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896736
Kudos: 9





	The Zalu Singularity

The Zalu Kingdom was not supposed to be the Zalu Empire, nor was it supposed to encompass all of Africa and a good chunk of the Americas. Not in the 1900s, not in the 2000s, and certainly not in 1816. It certainly shouldn’t have had technology that wouldn’t be invented for another hundred-odd years like automobiles, nor should its seven armies be led by a servant apiece, each a foreign hero sworn to Prince Sheka, heir to the throne.

Not that Prince Sheka would be heir much longer. In a few days time, he would be crowned king. In the true history of the world, Sheka was born a bastard son and only took his throne by having his elder brother put to death. Add a Holy Grail and several years of uncontested power, and suddenly Sheka was acknowledged by his father as his true heir, as the man who would lead the Zalu to their destiny with his seven generals. Each play that Chaldea had made for the Grail thus far had failed, repelled by his servants. Things were looking grim as each and every team they sent went dark.

They expected Sheka’s crowning to be a worst case scenario. Tensions were high. No one knew what they could possibly do to prevent it from happening; what they could do to reach the Grail and end the singularity that threatened their lives, their history, their very existence. The mood was bleak. Bleak for everyone but the one janitor who paid little mind to what the rest of Chaldea was doing at any given time, zoned out while blasting music through his ear pods as he worked. He knew that  _ his _ part of Chaldea’s mission was very small indeed; that his contributions to the cleanliness of the base were minor but still important. 

Humanity’s final bastion, filthy? Not on his watch. He didn’t worry about the big picture, because he had the little picture to focus on. He did his shift, went to his room and played games. Sometimes he read books. Other times he watched old movies. He did his part, and everyone else did their part, and humanity survived. It was a sheer stroke of fate that he was cleaning a spill in the meeting room when his superiors were plotting their next move. It was yet another that his ear pods ran out of juice just in time to hear their desperation and their inability to field a servant strong enough to win the day through strength alone. The final stroke of fate was not then and there, but during the preceding night when the janitor had watched Ocean’s Eleven.

“So why don’t you guys do a heist?” he asked, and the room turned its entire focus on him. Naturally, it fell on the janitor to plan the heist -- there was not a single criminal on staff with practical experience, but he had seen  _ so many heist movies _ that Chaldea’s bigwigs felt his planning was humanity’s last, and best, hope of survival. The janitor did not shy away from the task, planning out every meticulous detail and consulting experts to find the best servant for each job, of which there were many. Everyone involved would need to do their part, big or small, for the heist to succeed. Anything less than that could mean the end of humanity.

The Rider known as Medusa seemed to accept her part without so much as a blink, even though Chaldea’s top brass assumed it would anger her. That much should have been anticipated anyway, as Medusa attended her briefing wearing her blindfold. She accepted her gear bag without a word, already knowing what was inside, and left to get changed. On the other hand, the Lancer known as Schatch was taking a bit longer -- and a bit harder -- to come around on her ‘part’. She stared down into her gear bag with a flat expression so fearsome that it might have been able to defeat Sheka’s armies on its own. The room was tense, and for a moment everyone was sure that she would refuse. Yet she too silently got to her feet and left to get changed. Chaldea’s top brass and its janitor breathed sighs of relief. Scratch saw the necessity of the plan, and her silent agreement showed that she believed it could work. The heist was on.

Chaldea and humanity itself had a fighting chance.

Medusa came back first, her blindfold discarded; her pale eyes were only covered by her glasses. Without the leather blinding her, she looked much more approachable and much more human with her seemingly casual expression of serene calm. Far more beautiful for it, too. She had the kind of eyes someone could lose themselves in, and if they didn’t turn to stone or raw mana they would be set aflame. Figuratively speaking, at least. 

As lovely as Medusa’s eyes were, not one person in the room gave them a second glance, let alone a first glance. Their attention was instead drawn to her incredible body. Medusa’s skin tight leather sheath dress left little to the imagination, but the black bikini she wore now entirely removed the need for an imagination. It wasn’t well fit to her body in the best sort of way, almost  _ too _ small for her plump ass and ample tits. Her bottoms hugged her pussy so tightly they could see a clear camel toe in the fabric. The top lacked strings and simply fit around her breasts rather than over it, threatening to spill out at any moment should she make too sharp a movement. “Is this acceptable?” she asked, soft and simple, already playing her part. Her kitten heels boosted her height by just half an inch.

Most of the room nodded, but not the janitor. “We’re missing one thing,” he muttered as he moved close to the gorgon of legend, whose floor-length purple hair was far more silken than snake. She watched him placidly as he came close to her and didn’t even flinch when he reached up to her bikini’s top, even as others in the room winced or averted their eyes, expecting him to suffer a quick death for daring to grab Medusa’s practically divine tits. 

When the latter group dared to look back, they saw him walk away untouched after giving Medusa’s top a slight tweak. Her bikini top had been pulled down less than an inch, exposing just a hint of her areolae. Perhaps more surprisingly, Medusa’s nipples now visibly protruded against the top’s fabric -- not that there was any hint of arousal on the purple-haired Rider’s face, only her continued serenity.

“Perfect,” the janitor declared as he sat back down, just in time to watch Scáthach walk in. Though she was just as calm as Medusa at a glance, Scáthach’s irritation was practically palpable, simmering hot but tightly restrained under her skin. Her costume revealed much less bare flesh than Medusa’s, but was just as blatantly sexual. Everyone’s eyes went from the bottom up as they ogled her. A pair of deep purple heels boosted the short Queen to the Land of Shadows to Medusa’s height, while her long and toned legs were hugged tight by fishnet stockings that did nothing to hide their shapeliness.

The corset teddy she wore matched her heels and hair while accentuating her perfect hourglass frame, all hips and tits and a flat belly. It cupped her tits and supported them individually, perhaps the only two mammaries among all of Chaldea’s staff and servants to rival Medusa’s. Though Scáthach narrowed her eyes at the leering top brass, she held her tongue. They didn’t even notice her; the bowtie and floppy bunny ear headband she wore transformed the Witch of Dun Scaith into pure eye candy. 

The janitor lifted his finger and wiggled it in a circle. “Show us the back,” he ordered, and after only a moment’s bale-filled silence slowly turned, cocking a hip and resting a hand on it. One man in the room let out a low whistle at the sight of Scáthach’s thick ass, crested with a fluffy little bunny tail. She gripped her hip, ready to kill. This was beneath her royal dignity, but she would do her duty without complaint. No one noticed her tension. “It’s lacking-- I don’t know,” the janitor muttered to himself, getting to his feet and approaching Scáthach, breaking the spell the woman’s body put over the room. Everyone once more expected the worst. He called for scissors. He called for a needle. He called for a spool of thread.

He got them and set to work. “Hold still for me, now.”

A few minutes later, he stepped away from Scáthach. The room got terribly quiet as the janitor sighed. “I said hold still.” Scáthach stared at the janitor and didn’t say a word. She literally hadn’t moved a muscle; with her mastery of her body and her effective immortality, Scáthach had even stopped breathing as the janitor set to work on his last minute alterations to her costume. 

For the sake of humanity though, she held her tongue. The silence that hung over them was hardly a pall, for the janitor’s disastrous attempt at being a tailor had ruined the corset’s cups. Scáthach’s bare breasts were left out in the open, dumbstrucking everyone in the room but the janitor, Medusa and Scáthach herself. Despite their size and fullness, they sat high and perky on her chest as though defying gravity, showing not a hint of sag or stretch. Her dusky nipples pebbled under the room’s leering stare while someone ran off to find another bunny suit and a tailor who could actually facilitate the janitor’s vision.

Scáthach’s revised costume had a long swathe of fabric cut away from between her breasts, opening the suit up from her bowtie to her belly button. Strategic restitching didn’t leave her with tasteful side boob, but rather lewd half tits on either side, with the thinnest part of the corset being the triangles that covered her nipples -- thin enough, now, that the erect buds were plainly visible in how they longed to poke through the fabric. Naturally, the cut showed just a hint of her areolae. “Perfect,” the janitor murmured, reaching behind Scáthach to adjust her fluffy tail and tug the fit of the corset over her ample ass just so.

“Godspeed,” he wished the two purple-haired beauties before getting back to his job. He had floors to mop, Chaldea’s top brass had a mission to oversee, and the female servants had a Prince to distract. With their bodies, of course. Not that they were expected to fuck the future King or anything like that. Chaldea would never be so crass.

They were strictly distractions. Medusa smiled faintly and licked her lush lips. Nobody noticed it, and not because it was particularly subtle. She was a very distracting woman, one who had very particular tastes in life, tastes that no one in the room had bothered reading up on. 

*****-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-*****

As a swiftly growing world power, the Zalu Empire of course knew of far off lands like Greece and Scotland but had little to no real contact with them. It was an unexpected but welcome surprise that they sent emissaries to observe Prince Sheka’s coronation, a pair of beautiful women who came bearing exotic gifts. The officials didn’t seem to question why the two women came together, a detail the janitor simply overlooked. He overlooked a lot of things in his plan, possibly because he was a janitor with zero practical experience in logistics, strategy or heists.

Back at headquarters, Chaldea’s brass breathed a sigh of relief. They had their foot in the door -- quite literally, with ‘Dusa’ and ‘Sarah’ crossing into Prince Sheka’s chambers for their private, personal audience. Sure that the two servants had everything well in hand, they turned their attention to the rest of their team.

“What strange clothing you wear,” the Prince observed, sitting on one end of the room in a high-backed chair that may as well have been a throne. Several inches over six feet tall, Prince Sheka was built like a warrior but dressed like a gentleman out of England, in a style that shouldn’t have been designed for decades. The room around them was decorated in deep, royal purples fabrics and an impressive amount of gold paired with amber. He crossed his legs and leaned back, his dark gaze raking over either woman in turn. “Come closer… Dusa, Sarah. Let me see you.” 

There was nothing shy about his confident, casual appraisal of their sexuality. It made Medusa smile with a sultry glimmer in her pale eyes, while Scáthach suppressed the shiver that ran up her spine. She couldn’t stop the goosebumps that raised on her flesh. Their heels clicked on the floor in time to one another until the two stood shoulder to shoulder before the future king, who slowly raised to his feet, towering a full foot over them both. He focused on Medusa first, running his thick fingers over her bikini’s hem. She met his eye, her smile a simmering thing, and leaned into his powerful touch.

“So open,” he murmured, his voice a deep rumble even at its quietest. “So vulnerable.” He thumbed at her peeking areolae absently, making it seem like a coincidence when his hand strayed away and her erect nipple was poking out over the edge of her bikini. He didn’t even deign to notice it, instead tracing his hand down down her flat midsection and towards her bikini’s bottoms, teasing at the tied strings holding it together at either side. “What is its purpose?” he asked her. His English was impeccable.

Scáthach watched on with an increasingly wary expression, her eyes widening by degrees at what she saw next. With her natural insight, she had pegged Medusa as a debaucherous slut the moment they first met. They were on a crucial mission, and its failure could spell the end of humanity. Slut or not, she certainly didn’t expect Medusa to lean  _ this _ hard into the role when they weren’t even expected to bang the future king. 

“Ease of access,” Medusa practically purred, pitching her voice just a hitch lower. The throaty quality to her tone left no mystery to her intention. She wasn’t distracting and she certainly wasn’t teasing. She was letting Prince Sheka know in no uncertain terms that she was down to fuck. Her fingers slid down to where he was teasing the tied strings, sliding between his fingers in an almost sweetly flirtatious way. “One,” she murmured, and then her fingers gave a single, simple and effective pluck at them, undoing one side and causing her bottoms to fall loose, at least there. 

She still had a semblance of modesty. Scáthach and the Prince could see a hint of her pussy’s purple, tastefully trim carpet poking out from behind the dislodged fabric. That modesty vanished in the next moment when Medusa finished counting, undoing the other string. “Two,” she all but whispered as fell down her legs, leaving the legendary gorgon in just her heels and bikini top. Her cunt was flushed hot and dark, clearly wet and ready.

“So I see,” the Prince said with a very faint smirk, running his hand over Medusa’s hip without deigning to act on her clear invitation. “Most convenient indeed. I commend the people of Greece for their innovations.” She did move up to his side and all but mold her body into it, her perfect breasts squished up against his muscular torso and her hands running sensually over his shape. “And what of you, Sarah?” he said as he turned to face Scáthach. “What is the meaning behind… this?” he asked, reaching out to grab one of her rabbit ears.

“A costume,” she replied coolly despite the warmth she felt  _ elsewhere _ in her body. “My… people… are fond of rabbits, Your Highness.” If Medusa was willing to fuck the Prince, she’d abandon her character entirely and let Medusa handle things; Scáthach considered herself above the charades, the trickery, and the extremely risque costumes. There was nothing more that she loved than being pinned down by a larger man and it was hard not to think of what it would feel like if her ears were real and he pulled on them. It made her feel alive, but still, it would be beneath her dignity.

“Why the rabbit?” Sheka asked, raising his brows.

“Your Highness,” Medusa laughed softly before Scáthach had a chance to edge in a word, raising to her tip-toes to breathe her words right into his royal ear, “do your people have a saying anything like ‘fucking like rabbits’?” Her teeth nipped at his earlobe before she eased back down, spreading her fingers over his rippled stomach. The guise of calm serenity she wore finally began to fade away, leaving Medusa’s true wanton nature bare. “Because,” she said in a softer hush, “that’s why she’s in the costume.” Her fingers slid lower and lower over his stomach until they were sliding over his pants, down them, her hand cupping the sizable bulge in them. 

“That’s not--” Scáthach quickly began to protest.

Medusa met Scáthach’s eyes, grinning with them more than her lips as she fondled the massive package Prince Sheka had packed between his thighs. “You see, Your Highness,” she murmured, steamrolling  _ right _ over Scáthach’s denial and her attempt to back out of this, “they don’t have men like you in Scotland. They don’t have cocks like this one,” she dripped. Literally, Scáthach noted; her pussy’s natural juices were dripping down her thigh as she squeezed Sheka’s cock. “Big, black and hard.” If the Prince was excited or spurred on by Medusa’s adventurous fingers, he never showed it, staying calm and collected.

That didn’t mean he was quiet. “Woman, that isn’t even hard.” Both of them were taken aback by the claim. The lump his cock made was  _ massive _ , clearly rivalling if not surpassing anything that either woman had ever held in hand or taken inside them. Scáthach could only look to Medusa, who already had her hand on it. She watched the other purple-haired servant further her groping, her elegant fingers tracing its shape skeptically. Her lustful expression betrayed her mounting excitement, and the way her lips parted slightly with a delighted gasp wasn’t a seductive ploy. “He’s right,” Medusa said with a shiver of excitement. “He’s limp.”

“That’s impossible,” Scáthach muttered. Medusa’s machinations had her near outrage moments before, but now she was almost insulted by the outrageous lie. Nobody in the world could possibly have a cock that large, not without passing out whenever they popped an erection. Yet at the same time she knew that Prince Sheka had a Holy Grail, and that the impossible was  _ very _ much possible for him. The fact that they were standing in the Russian Empire’s Amber Room  _ in Africa _ proved that. Still not believing in spite of the facts, Scáthach moved closer, lowering her hips and squatting down to put Sheka’s cock at eye level. She balanced perfectly on her heels, then reached out to have her fingers tentatively join Medusa’s. 

The Queen of the Land of Shadows gasped softly in surprise. It  _ wasn’t _ hard. Sheka’s confidence wasn’t just for show. She ran her fingers along one side of him, leaving the other for Medusa, who slowly slid down until she was on her knees. While Scáthach was simply focused on the Prince’s royal black cock, Medusa still had her eyes on the future. She had her eyes on what that cock was going to do to them. Her other hand slid up the side of the Prince’s trousers, unlatching his belt and pulling it away. Scáthach didn’t even seem to notice when it thumped on the floor, practically enraptured in her exploration of Sheka’s meat, her hand following it halfway down his thigh.

“Would you like to see my cock hard?” Sheka asked, voice low and deep. Medusa grinned, knowing the question wasn’t for her but for Scáthach. The other purple-haired servant drew in a shuddering breath, her hand sliding down further and her other joining its twin opposite on Sheka’s body. She braced her weight on his knees and raised her gaze to meet Sheka’s eye, a deep red fluster starting to creep up her neck and up her cheeks. The Witch of Dun Scaith swallowed thickly, her creeping lust and incredible libido winning over her conscious mind and willful nature.

Scáthach always longed for a warrior who could defeat her, and at her core she didn’t rightly care what kind of victory they won over her. A carnal victory might have been better for her than a violent one. She felt her heart starting to hammer away in her chest, a steady thump thump in her ears. For a moment and just a moment, she struggled for the right words to express what she wanted to this glorious Prince and his equally glorious cock. “Show me your spear, Your Highness,” she finally pleaded, unable to look away from Sheka’s gaze, almost hypnotic in its focus and confidence.

She was too focused to notice Medusa open his trousers, and certainly too focused on the future king’s royal features to notice Medusa take out his stiffening cock. It didn’t come quick nor did it come quietly, requiring a degree of fishing around to find an angle which would let it slide out. What finally drew Scáthach’s attention down to it was the sound of a thread ripping as Sheka’s burgeoning hardness literally ripped his trouser’s fly wider in Medusa’s struggle to remove it. 

Yet Scáthach didn’t look down quiet fast enough. Medusa, feeling uncharacteristically mischievous in her excitement over Sheka’s cock, drew it out and slapped the thick black cock against Scáthach’s cheek. She gasped her surprise, blinking back but not before Medusa could thwack her face again, the impact leaving a red mark on Scáthach’s fair flesh. Though Scáthach glared at Medusa, the gorgon simply grinned ear to ear, her expression taunting while Sheka observed their exchange almost casually, cool and aloof. “How dare you,” Scáthach began, her anger in the moment threatening the very mission she came here to do. 

Later, Medusa would tell her what she did next was all for the sake of the mission, that she had to do  _ something _ to keep the heist on track, to keep the Prince distracted, and nevermind the fact that she created this situation and was the one who casually cockslapped Scáthach. The truth was, though, that Medusa had forgotten about the mission too. She just loved being a wicked woman, and hadn’t had the opportunity to satisfy her urges and cravings since first being summoned by Chaldea. This was the first time she was getting to let loose without someone looking over her shoulder or having to mind her Master, and she was going to make the best of it. And as much as Scáthach might protest her treatment or confidently portray her royal ‘dignity’, Scáthach felt much the same way.

Medusa used her superhuman reflexes to shove the Prince’s cock right between Scáthach’s open lips, making the other purple-haired servant’s eyes flare wide open when she could taste the future king’s impressive meat on her tongue. Long, thick and now hard, it was equally impressive that Scáthach could even fit it into the wet warmth of her mouth without her body recoiling in instinctual fear. She tried to glare at Medusa, but the expression was toothless with a cock lodged in her and only made the gorgon giggle. It failed at being a glare regardless; Scáthach already knew what she wanted to do with the cock. As her eyes grew half-lidded, she began to explore every inch of it with her tongue, taking it deeper and deeper until its head was just inside her throat.

“They suck like bunnies in Scotland too, Your Highness,” Medusa confided in Sheka, her grin slimming down until it held a more lustful edge to it. She released the base of his cock almost reluctantly, reaching behind herself to find the hook that held her bikini together and unlatch it. She undid it and let it drop away from her body, leaving her naked but for the heels she still wore. No one bothered to point out that bunnies didn’t really suck on anything. She loitered on her knees at the future king’s side, slowly drawing her hands over her full breasts and teasing her sensitive nipples, biting down on the swell of her bottom lip as she watched Scáthach start to bob her head along Sheka’s cock, teasing the start of a deepthroat but never taking it further inside of it.

“So I see,” Shekka murmured. Medusa’s eyes snapped up when she felt one of his hands on her head, his fingers curling into her hair. “Now,” he began with the first hint of anything but cool confidence, a low growl coloring his voice, “shut your mouth and show me how Greek women suck on balls.” She gasped when he pulled her forward, but it was a gasp cut with a laugh of delight. Squeezing in close to his leg and bracing her hand on his leg just under Scáthach’s, Medusa arched her back and bent down low to get under the Prince’s sack, running her tongue over it before sucking it into her waiting mouth, just as eager for part of Sheka’s package as Scáthach was for the cock proper. She licked and laved over one of his nuts like it was a piece of candy, leaving it damp with saliva before drawing in the other.

“Good,” Shekka muttered, that coolness seemingly departed altogether now as his voice grew more guttural, his intense focus entirely set on the two women. Though neither of them were thinking about it anymore, the pair were doing a stupendous job of distracting the future king. He pressed Medusa’s head in close to his sack, giving her no choice but to continue pleasuring his cock’s proverbial undercarriage, a lack of choice she happily complied with. “You can do quite a bit better than that with your cock-sucking lips,” he all but ordered Scáthach, who closed her eyes entirely and put her full repertoire to the task, whorling her tongue around the cock filling her mouth. It wasn’t enough for Shekka, whose hand fell to her head and tore away her bunny ears. He tossed them carelessly to the side, then grabbed her hair and shoved her head down on his cock, forcing his way into her throat and making her squeal in muffled surprise around it. “Just your mouth isn’t enough for me, woman,” he snarled. 

While he kept Medusa with her nose all but pressed to his sack, he took full control of Scáthach’s blowjob, not bothering to move his hips at all as he roughly fucked her face and throat, pulling and pushing her head along his massive black cock. The subtle mascara that Scáthach had applied when she changed into her costume began to run as tears trickled down her cheeks, though the Witch of Dun Scaith didn’t try to resist at all. It was just her body’s natural reaction to having her face so thoroughly ravished by the hulking stud. Medusa glanced at Scáthach from the corner of her eye, observing how flushed her face was and the way she almost swayed into the repeated impaling. Scáthach was clearly lost in pleasure. On impulse, Medusa shot out a hand and grabbed the top of Scáthach’s corset, grabbing it and using her own superhuman strength to rip it clean over her tits, letting her bouncing breasts sway and jostle as Sheka used her throat like a cock cozy.

“Enough,” Sheka suddenly growled, pulling Scáthach clean off his dick. His hold in her hair almost seemed to be the only thing keeping her upright on her heels, her expression full of wanton haze. Though she had lost the cock in her mouth, she was still attached to it by strands of saliva that hung between the two, her lips still parted. Those strands broke a moment later as Sheka took a step away, though he kept a hold of Scáthach’s hair like a leash. With the way he held both their hairs, perhaps that was how he saw them -- his pets for the evening, his toys to freely fuck in celebration of his impending coronation. The thought occurred to them both at the same time, and both women could feel their already wet cunts get wetter. There would be no mistaking their state if anyone from Chaldea glanced in on their servants, forever changing their perception of the two powerful women, but no one did. They were busy elsewhere, taking advantage of Sheka being distracted.

“I would try the Greek throat next,” he declared. He didn’t need to pull Medusa off his balls; she left them eagerly and shuffled back on her knees, quickly taking the crown of his royal black scepter between her lush lips. Though Scáthach had hesitated to try deepthroating him, Medusa came from a time and place where she regularly ‘entertained’ Africans. She loved nothing more than a big black cock plundering one of her holes and it showed in how she quickly took him deeper, struggling only with his size. Prince Sheka really was bigger than any other man she had fucked before. Medusa was such a talented cocksucker that she didn’t even need to brace her hands on him or the floor. Instead, they went between her thighs as her knees spread; she filled her cunt with three of her fingers, knowing she would need to get it nice and ready, while her other hand’s long digits began to play with her clit.

Scáthach watched while recovering from her facefuck, her panting making her breasts rise and fall rhythmically. She almost unconsciously reached between her thighs, grabbing her suit and ripping the crotch wide just like Medusa had just ripped away the fabric that covered her tits. When it was  _ her _ turn, she didn’t want any delay in getting stretched wide by that massive piece of meat. Until then, though, she felt spurred to take some form of revenge on the mischievous, promiscuous Medusa. She eased to her knees and crawled up right behind her, pressing her erect nipples against Medusa’s back as she squished her breasts against it, putting her lips to the gorgon’s ear. “You’ve always been a slut for black cock, haven’t you?” she whispered as Sheka watched on, releasing his grip on Medusa’s long purple hair.

“Mmmm,” Medusa moaned around the cock without trying to give any better answer than that. 

Scáthach glanced up at Sheka, his gaze practically waiting for hers, and gave a shallow nod. The Queen of the Land of Shadows smirked faintly, then reached up and grabbed the back of Medusa’s head. Deepthroat or not, she wasn’t taking  _ all _ of Sheka’s cock at once, sticking to her admittedly impressive comfort zone. Scáthach changed that when she took control of the blowjob just as Prince Sheka had with her, making Medusa yelp in surprise around the big black airway obstruction. “Then go on,” Scáthach purred, having given in wholeheartedly to the debauchery, “and show His Highness exactly how courageous a cocksucker you are.” She forced Medusa to take him deeper and deeper until the gorgon’s nose was tickled by his short and curlies, and it seemed like she had hit capacity, her throat resisting the last half inch fiercely. “Come on,” Scáthach murmured, her hand sliding down the thick slope of Medusa’s ass to slip two digits into her as-of-yet untouched asshole. “Take all of that cock, you serpentine bitch.”

Scáthach expected Medusa to tense and sputter and embarrass herself when she fingered the other woman’s asshole, but she should have known better. She should have known just how much the ancient Greeks liked to get their asses fucked, and Medusa was no exception; many of the so-called heroes who approached her island in life did so hoping for a piece of her legendary ass. She did tense for half a second, and then all that tension spilled out of her in an orgasm that had her body shuddering, and her throat shuddering around Sheka’s cock with it. As she relaxed just as powerfully, her lips kissed his pelvis, successfully deepthroating all of the future king’s cock.

Scáthach stared at her in wonderment, her distracted attention making her miss the fact that Sheka was pulling himself free from Medusa’s throat. More than that, he was breathing far more deeply, his jaw set with determination as he resisted his body’s every cry for him to let his cock cum all over the two beauties. Medusa sagged back against Scáthach, but not for long; Sheka released Scáthach’s hair and then reached down, grabbing her in his powerful arms and pulling her off the floor. Her surprised squeak was anything but heroic, but she didn’t suffer the indignity of being carried around like a princess for more than half a second. He threw her on a waiting bed and stepped up to her. As a servant, she more than had the reflexes to react, but right there and then she only wanted to be a woman conquered by the world’s new Alexander.

Scáthach gasped with delight as Shekka grabbed one of her ankles and gave her a rough tug, pulling her towards the edge of the bed and then pushing it back. He grabbed her other ankle and followed suit, climbing up and pinning her thighs back with his own. Scáthach drew in a sharp breath and held it, shivering in anticipation of what was coming next, of what was coming next, of what was -- the moment his cock hit her damp cunt’s lips,  _ she _ came next. Her body was wracked by convulsions but held down by the weight of Sheka’s muscles. Sheka paused in his penetration, giving Scáthach a strange look as she cried out. When it dawned upon him what had happened, his expression changed into one full of reproach. “Weakling little rabbit,” he scoffed at her, and without consideration for her post-orgasm sensitivity pressed his massive cock into her tight little snatch.

The taunt only stoked the flames of Scáthach’s needy cunt higher and higher. This was exactly what she wanted, what she needed, a thorough and humiliating defeat at the hands (or in this case, cock) of a worthy opponent. She cried out again as Sheka’s cock made a new home in her pussy, stretching it out in a way no man ever had and certainly no man ever would again. “Is this what you want, weakling?” Sheka growled as he pressed inch after inch of himself into her, Scáthach’s body greedily taking each bit of his cock. “My cock pounding your little holes?” He grabbed hold of one of her breasts, palming it roughly and pinching her erect nipple. “Tell me,” he demanded.

“Y-yes,” Scáthach gasped out, her toes curling hard as her feet almost dangled in the air. She reached out almost blindly for his body, her hands slipping under his arms. Her long nails found purchase on his back, clawing wickedly at him and drawing more than one bloody scrape along his dark skin. “F-fuck your weak litle slut bunny, Y-your Highness! Defeat me!” she cried out, the loud noise getting louder and far more senseless as she came again, this time with his cock deep inside her, poking her deepest depths. Though her wet little cunt managed to take most of the future king’s proud cock, there were inches of him left outside of her, unable to squeeze any deeper inside.

Sheka growled once more and began to pound Scáthach in earnest, her multiple orgasms bleeding into one another and overwhelming her. She found her vision darkening, her body unable to keep up with this Grail-powered sexual adonis. Her cries and screams of pleasure only grew progressively hoarser, her lungs feeling like Sheka had fucked every ounce of oxygen out of them with his incredible dick. Some remote part of her mind counted the ridiculous orgasms he drew out of her. The seventh time her cunt began spasming and clenching at his cock, he finally lost control and filled her damp fuckhole with his jizz, all but roaring his satisfaction at his conquest.

It was only fitting that Scáthach’s limbs fell limp against the bed as he dismounted her, their mating press complete. Her panting breaths slowed as she passed out with a cunt full of royal seed, more content and relaxed than she had ever been in her life. The fuck of her life had felt like an eternity to Scáthach, but in truth he only spent two minutes and some change pounding her sweet little pussy, bald in contrast to the trim purple hairs decorating Medusa’s.

Sheka hadn’t forgotten Medusa. He turned away from Scáthach and turned his gaze to where she lay on the floor, an almost deliriously dreamy smile on her face. While Sheka had fucked Scáthach, Medusa fingered herself to the sound of their coupling, seemingly in nirvana after Scáthach had effectively fucked Sheka’s cock with her face, and had cummed herself in that time. Prince Sheka stepped over to her and leaned down, grabbing her hair. She gasped as he pulled her to her hands and knees, once more treating her lovely purple hair like a leash, leading the dazed woman over to where Scáthach’s blissful, peaceful body laid. “Clean up my mess,” he ordered Medusa, leaning down to give her plump booty a sharp slap as though spurring her forward. “Swallow none of it.”

“Y-yes, Master,” Medusa moaned, crawling right up between Scáthach’s legs and unabashedly sticking her face in her partner in crime’s cunt. The single kiss she gave Scáthach’s clit was an almost sweet thing, making her body twitch right before Medusa spread her cunt wide and began to lap up the spunky mess inside the other woman’s pussy. There was of course far too much for Medusa to clean up all of it, and most of it was too deep for her tongue to reach, if not already in Scáthach’s womb. She didn’t let that deter her or reduce her enthusiasm for the task. 

When Scáthach began to stir back to life, Sheka grabbed Medusa and all but manhandled her in throwing her on top of the other woman, making sure to push Scáthach’s legs back first so their new position resembled the mating press he had just put her through. Medusa, knowing by instinct where this was going, raised her hips and plied her supple body close to Scáthach’s, their breasts squeezed together and each of their nipples teasing the other woman’s. “Share,” Sheka growled, though Medusa was already lowering her lips to Scáthach, surprising her with a kiss and almost shocking her back into alertness with the cum the gorgon’s tongue put in her mouth. 

With the women positioned as they were, Sheka had his choice of their four holes. His decision on which was already made; his mighty spear of a cock found Medusa’s puckered little asshole and pressed into it. He expected far more resistance than he found, but even so he was incredibly surprised by how easily her ass ate up his cock. Medusa cried out into her kiss with Scáthach, her fingers curling into the bedsheets, her nails tearing at the cloth fitfully as Sheka worked his way steadily inside of her. As much as she was enjoying the kiss with Scáthach, as much as Scáthach eagerly returned it, she needed to surface for air and self-expression.

“Fuck,” Medusa gasped out, arching her back as Sheka’s cock came near to hilting inside her, something no woman had ever managed before. “Just like that. Fuck my ass, Sheka, fuck i--” she begged and begged, though Scáthach didn’t let her do it for long. She swallowed the cum in her mouth, then reached up and grabbed the other purple-haired servant’s face, pulling her right back down to Scáthach’s waiting lips. Though Sheka’s seed was gone down Scáthach’s throat, they still both had his taste staining their tongues, their lips. They eagerly attacked each other’s mouth for more and more of him, finding it terribly intoxicating. 

Soon, Sheka was pounding Medusa’s ass in earnest, with far more vigor than he gave Scáthach’s cunt. Though Medusa was engaged in the kiss, she was far more enthralled by the cock thrusting in and out of her ass. She wasn’t a passive participant in the slightest, squeezing and relaxing her muscles in time with Sheka’s thrusts to make each one easier, yet far more pleasurable for them both. Between that and his sheer size, she was practically feeling him shoving against the walls of her cunt as well. For all her anal skill and experience, she couldn’t last long, moaning and soon crying out into Scáthach’s mouth as her body slowly tensed, then released all that tension in the space of a second -- except in her ass, practically trapping Sheka’s member in there for that second and several more.

Once more at the edge of climax, Sheka struggled his way out of Medusa’s clenching asshole and stepped around the bed, grabbing their hair and pulling the two women towards him without any thought to their comfort; they were left both facing, Scáthach with her face upside down and Medusa on a partial angle, their limbs tangled together. They were both gasping messes compared to the composed, sensual women that had first entered the room, eyes hazy with lust and satisfaction. “Perhaps,” Sheka said, low and deep as he jerked himself towards another orgasm, “I’ll have to conquer your countries next. I will tell you this now, Dusa, Sarah. You…” he growled, nearing his edge, “will not be leaving here. You will serve as my concubines,” he declared, and with that final word he shot his load all over their faces, marking them as his forevermore with his sticky seed.

Both Medusa and Scatach gasped and moaned as it splattered their features. It never occurred to either of them to say no. Being Sheka’s concubine would mean getting his cock every day for the rest of his life. Forget the fact that humanity would stop existing if Chaldea didn’t recover the Grail and put an end to the Zalu singularity.  _ This _ was a far better life, and at least there, at least in that moment, neither of them wanted anything more. “Now clean each other’s faces,” he ordered his pets, and the two almost fought over who would get to begin licking their master’s cum first.

Elsewhere, the Heist succeeded. Chaldea’s brass cheered in their control room, breaking out the champagne to celebrate as well as wheeling in the cake they would surprise their returning heroes with. The servants began to appear one by one, each one satisfied by a job well done and the continued existence of humanity and history. It all came to an abrupt, silent end when the gathered members of Chaldea noticed a naked Medusa rolling over on the mission table, letting Scáthach on top. The two servants were sweaty messes, their hair in wild disarray. Even after minutes of licking, their faces still looked like the aftermath of a bukkake, and no one was likely to believe them when they said it was the cum of one man.

You could hear a pin drop in that room. Hell, you could hear a bead of cum drop in that room. Minutes had passed before someone finally coughed and Scáthach finally lifted her head, realizing where they were with wide eyes. “Oh,” she said, soft with surprise. “Fuck.”

Medusa, grinning and lacking any sense of shame, just pulled her down for another cummy kiss.

**Author's Note:**

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